Glory Days
by Suilaid
Summary: "No longer is my tale sung in every hall, stories of my achievements ringing in people's ears. I am a ghost of my former self, long gone are my glory days. Dragonborn? That is history..."
1. Prologue

It's surprising how quickly life turns dull when you're no longer fighting dragons for the future of Skyrim's safety. Perhaps dull is too mild of a word, because some days I want to smack my head against a wall just for the possibility it may be entertaining. Some days I nearly do. I've got all these houses scattered across the country, and they're empty, save for the housecarl I let live there; but when I visit them now (which is rare) it's different. Five years have passed since I slew Alduin in Sovengarde, five years since my life has slowly but steadily begun a descent into madness. My body is too riddled with aches and pains that someone my age shouldn't be receiving for another couple decades. Yet I, the Dragonborn, took on nearly an impossible task, and my physical being shows the price I paid. Nobody knows how it's impacted me emotionally; I may be crippled but I'm too stubborn to let my feelings show. Some of my old ways haven't completely abandoned me.

Now I spend my days wallowing in self-pity. Rambling to myself about how shitty my life is because I'm too sickly to play outdoors with all the other kids. My housecarls no longer look up at me with anticipation and wonder when I stumble into the house unannounced, half alive and laden with treasures from my adventures. There was always a story on my lips, always a tale to be heard. Not anymore. Those tales have been told, the songs have been sung, have been revered, and now they're over. News around here is the civil war these days, bigheaded Nord men stamping their feet and having tantrums over the Empire and it's ridiculous ways. Gods, if I could only go back to the good old times, when fighting Dragons was my sport, now… now there's barely one left to hear of, and the ones that are alive keep well out of sight.

Nobody reminisces about the day the Dragonborn saved their village or city from a terrifying beast, or when he saved all of Skyrim from being destroyed completely. I've been reduced to textbooks and history, just a shell of what used to be my glory days. Nobody told me how hollow I'd feel once all was said and done…

* * *

I slowly cracked one eye open, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on my face. But for me it held no comfort in its caress, it was a reminder that another day had started yet again, and that I'd rather be asleep. I liked it better when I was unconscious, or drunk. Whichever came first was okay with me. I groaned and rolled onto my side, feeling nauseas, which was probably from the night of drinking I had coerced with. My newest hobby was being a drunk, since skooma went terribly wrong, I couldn't handle that shit. I tried to sit up. The room swam before my bloodshot eyes, and I quickly slumped back down on the bed and took a couple deep breaths. Pain pounded against my skull and it felt as though my brain was letting me know just how much of a pathetic excuse for a man I'd become. Each pound reminded me of my miserable life, who would ever want to see the Dragonborn in this state? I'd be a disgrace. So that's why I live alone in Whiterun.

I finally managed to bring myself to a standing position and shuffled my feet across the cold wood floor, shivering at the cool morning air that came in from the broken window. Ah, I remember how that happened, back when entertaining women was an exciting pleasure, when I was desired for my fame and power. There had been this one in particular, a fiery Redgard with the most unusual interest in…

Anyways, needless to say we broke the window, and I nearly broke my back, but that was years ago and I never bothered to fix it. I don't bother to do much of anything anymore; I'm only kept alive because of the pension I'm paid, you know, for saving Skyrim and all.

I rubbed my stubbly chin, long over due for a shave. I couldn't care less about my appearances, women stopped looking my way and I stopped going outside for more than food. I somehow made it down the stairs without stumbling and rummaged through the food cupboard, ignoring the looks of Lydia when she entered into Breezehome.

"Good morning my Thane," she greeted me, and I grunted in response. I knew my lack of social skills got on the Nord's snobby nerves, but she did as best of a job as she could to hide her annoyance, too bad I wasn't a complete idiot. I noticed the slight frown on her face, the flash of anger in her ugly brown eyes when I glanced her way.

"What do you want?" I asked, enjoying how much my rudeness set the woman off. Currently it was my only form of entertainment besides drinking. I found it rather funny that the woman held such high standards in mannerisms and social etiquette when she was built like a damn Horker and fought like a bear.

"I only came to see how my Thane is faring, and to see if there were anything I could do," Lydia replied as sweetly as she could muster. She was doing a terrible job, and I enjoyed it. This routine was a habit of hers I failed to stop, she was like a cat nobody liked that kept coming back for food no matter how many times you abused it. I ripped a chunk of stale bread off with my teeth and noisily chewed on it while staring thoughtfully at her. I could almost see her shudder. She glanced down at my attire, which was the same clothing I had been wearing for the last three days, and I could nearly hear the rolling of her eyes in their sockets when I turned my back to her to pour myself a cup of wine.

"So early for alcohol, my Thane?" She asked, and I shrugged, taking a deep sip of the red drink.

"You any good at sucking cock, Lydia?" I asked bluntly, and watched in calm amusement as the Nord's face turned bright red as she became utterly enraged at what I had just said to her.

"H-how dare you!" She cried, stuttering, and her hands balled up into fists. "You are the worse Thane I have _ever_ had, you…you…asshole! Look at you, the mighty Dragonborn reduced to a set of rags and an alcoholic. You disgust me!"

I hadn't been prepared for that. Her words hit me like a stone brick to the gut. But unlike dear Lydia, I was better at hiding my emotions, and so I simply smiled at her.

"Lovely Lydia," I told her soothingly, holding my hands up. "I was joking, honest. I have more respect for you than that." My voice was dripping with lies, but she was too stupid to be able to tell.

Such a delight it was to see Lydia's anger burn out in an instance, and was quickly replaced with shame. This time her pale face flushed red in embarrassment, and she tucked a strand of her lank brown hair behind her ear, stammering an apology.

"No need," I replied, waving my hand. "I have no need for you today, like every day you come here. You are dismissed." My voice was flat, I was done and bored with her now, my fun was over, so I made her leave and turned back to my only hobby now. My cup of wine was immensely inviting. The only sound of her departure was the sounds of her ridiculous and bulky armor when she moved, and the door shutting quietly behind her.

However the housecarl's words sunk into me, as I sat by myself in Breezehome, drinking the day away. I sighed, running a hand through my dirty brown mane of hair. My body was no longer toned and perfectly sculpted, something to be desired. I couldn't remember the last time I saw my reflection, and I knew I didn't want to see what I looked like now. I had not uttered a shout in the Dragon tongue for years, nor picked up a sword. What prized possessions I had lay in boxes, or on shelves collecting dust. I had been reduced to someone I didn't recognize anymore, and those depressing thoughts made me drink more. By the afternoon my mind was clouded over with alcohol, and that brought my comfort. And like always, by the early evening I had finished off the stale bread and more wine than I could remember, and I laid down on the cold stone floor of my lonely home and swiftly fell asleep.


	2. Marketplace Mishap

Marketplace Mishap

* * *

I groaned, and pried my sticky cheek off the cold wood floor, rising up like a terrible sea monster to gulp for fresh air. I'm sure I looked the part. I had slept on the floor, which was normal behavior for me, and I proceeded to rise unsteadily to my feet; which was no easy task. My vision was blurry, and my eyes caked with crust. My head felt five times it size and hard to keep still without wobbling like a newborn babe who doesn't know how to operate the limb quite right. I leaned against the dresser and groaned again, dragging a hand across my haggard face, which had a lot of drool on one side; disgusted with myself.

_Enough of this thinking_, I told myself_, time for some grub. _

This was the highlight of my morning, not the going outside part, but getting food. From the looks of things you'd never know I ate like a king, for my moss green skin stretched tightly over my big bones and most of my muscle mass had dramatically reduced since my career ended. I used to be a beast of an Orsimer, as most of my kind was, but I used to be exceptionally amazing.

I stumbled around and wrenched open one of the dresser drawers, pulling out the first article of clothing my bulky hands came across, and roughly pulled a pair of breeches on and a dirt smudged tunic. I climbed unsteadily down the stairs and walked past the cold hearth, reaching my boots and cloak. I shoved the worn leather onto my feet and drew my hood up, making sure I looked a proper hermit, before heading out the door.

Sunlight assaulted my eyes, and I stood still for a moment, blinking rapidly, until my vision adjusted to the sudden change. Whiterun was bustling with activity, as the commoners went about their business for the day, and I did not greet anyone I passed, as I made my way to the Plains district. Everything was the way it was each time I came here, and I liked it that way. I paid no attention to the other customers as I made my way over to Bosmer Anoriath for fresh meats. A young woman stood to my right, eying some of the stalls, and I watched as she interacted with the elf, her mage's hood pulled up so I could not see her face. I gathered my packages and was beginning to continue my rounds when I saw out of the corner of my eyes a scene that filled me with anger.

I was not too hung-over to miss the filthy Bosmer as his grubby hand brushed over the girl's rump, gently squeezing it, and neither did the girl.

"Hey!" There came a shout, and the girl spun around, confronting Anoriath with a well-placed fist to the jaw. There was a thud, and I watched the attack unfold, my hands raised, but the Bosmer simply stumbled back and cried foul.

"Thief!" His voice rasped, clutching his stubbly cheek. "Stole from me, and then assaulted me!"

"What!" I roared, stepping forward, watching the girl as she backed away from the stall. Her hood had fallen back, revealing a young and beautiful elvish face, her eyes widened in shock.

"Y-you bastard!" She cried out, but it was too late. A few guards had heard Anoriath's cry, and were making their way over to the plains district.

I don't know what I was thinking, as I never intervened in anything, but I couldn't resist; Anoriath was a dirty son of a bitch and the girl had been violated; she didn't deserve to be arrested.

In a split second decision, I strode up the girl and took a hold of her arm, dragging her to me so I could speak.

"Go now," I growled quietly, pointing to Breezehome. "I will come for you when I have cleared this up."

"What?" She replied, looking up at me with wide blue eyes.

"I saw what he did," I explain quickly, "but you're going to get arrested if you don't go! _Now!_"

The elf didn't need to be told twice, and she quickly bolted, running down the street towards my home. I turned to face Anoriath, a scowl on my face, and I quickly advanced, my face inches away from the cowering man.

"I saw what you did," I growled menacingly, thoroughly enjoying the fear I was instilling in the pathetic man. He gulped, visibly shaking. "If you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

Anoriath nodded once, and I stepped away from him. I retrieved my packages and continued to the vegetables, determined to finish my purchases before heading back, though I could only think of the girl who was currently in my home. Once I was finished, I calmly walked back to Breezehome, stepping inside the small house only to find a fire roaring in the hearth, and girl had removed her traveling cloak. She stood up when I entered.

"Thank you," she began, and I shrugged.

"He's a son of a bitch anyways," I replied, kicking off my shoes. "Saw him grab your ass. Then he had the gull to accuse you of stealing."

She blushed at my language, looking down at the floor, but smiled.

"I know who you are," she told me quietly, and I wandered over to the cupboards to put away my food.

"Yeah?" I asked lazily, in need of a cup of something strong. I rummaged around and found another goblet, and set them both on the table.

"You're the Dragonborn." She whispered, and I stiffened.

"_Was _the Dragonborn," came my guttural reply, and I sighed.

"Just because Alduin is long gone doesn't mean you stop being Dragonborn," the elf replied briskly, " You're a legend, Malath."

Malath. That was my name.

"Do you have a name?" I asked, trying to change the subject. I poured wine into the goblets and offered one to her, and the girl gratefully accepted it.

"Lenia," she replied, smiling softly at me. I took a gulp of wine and nodded, studying her for a moment.

She was short, her head just reaching the height of my chest, and she was a tiny girl. I watched Lenia as she moved closer, taking a seat at the bench beside me. Her hair was medium length and a wavy mass around her face, and her skin was a creamy white. I took another sip, looking away. It had been a long time since a beautiful woman was in my home, and I felt dirty as my thoughts drifted to unwanted places, so I focused on the incident.

"There won't be any problem," I mumbled, and coughed. "I took care of it."

"Thank you again," Lenia replied happily, turning her blue-eyed gaze on me. She smiled again, and before I knew it I was smiling back.

Lenia frowned, and I hastily wiped the smile from my face. Gods…did I look _that_ bad? Probably.

"What?" I asked after a moment, unused to being stared at.

"You don't smile very often do you?" She asked, and I looked down at my cup.

"No…I don't do much of anything nowadays."

"You should smile more often," Lenia replied, and I couldn't deny that I appreciated her kindness.

_I need to distance myself. _

I stood up, moving towards the fire, and turned my back to her, staring at the flames. We were silent for a little while; I could hear the quiet noise of her cup being set down on the wooden table with my acute hearing. After a while there was a rustle, and I forced myself to turn around.

Lenia was sifting through the cupboards, humming to herself.

"What are you doing?" I asked, and the girl shot me a pleasant smile.

"Making a meal, of course. It's the least I can do."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes I do." She cut in, her voice firm.

I gave a defeated sigh, and did not try to sway her.

_Interesting elf,_ I thought, moving over to a chair. _I'm surprised she can stand to be in the same room as my deadbeat self. _

Lenia turned out to be a decent cook, and I grudgingly admitted to myself that I enjoyed her company, as we sat together at the bench in my home in Whiterun. It was certainly a strange twist of events, I just wanted to buy some food.


	3. Confessions of a drunk man

Confessions of a drunk man

* * *

Malath was an interesting fellow, and I was amazed to be in the presence of the Dragonborn. I'd only read about him in the recently written textbooks back in Winterhold; I knew everything about his accomplishments. He had saved Skyrim, and yet it looked as though his life was in shambles, as I watched the skinny Orsimer steadily drinking beside me on the bench. I took another sip of my wine, drinking wasn't really my thing, but he had offered it and I welcomed a little alcohol after the incident with the merchant.

His house, which Malath called Breezehome, was in a state of disarray. I had judged by the clutter, dust, and overall dirtiness of the place that he must not have a wife, and that thought made me sad. How could the most famous man in Skyrim be in such despair?

"Do you live alone?" I inquired quietly, twirling a strand of my brown hair around one finger, and I glanced over at him. Malath looked a little worse for wear, but I could see hints of his former self, and I bet he looked like a God back in the day. I smiled at that thought.

He was thin, too thin in my opinion, which is why I made sure he ate plenty of the venison and potatoes I had prepared, and I had also managed to make the stubborn man drink some water; he was very fond of his alcohol.

"Yes," Malath replied, his voice deep and gravelly. I enjoyed the sound.

I watched as Malath poured himself more wine, now a little sloppier, as he became more intoxicated throughout the day. A little bit of wine slopped over the edge of his goblet, the crimson liquid spilling down the side and pooling on the table. He yawned, and I took a moment to study the Orsimer.

His skin was the colour of an evergreen, but there was something smoky about it. I imagined he was in his early thirties, but Malath's current health probably added a few more years on his face than usual. He had dark bags under his eyes, and he appeared to have a permanent scowl, which I knew could be softened with a smile. One of his tusks had been broken off, and only a sliver of the white bone showed, while the other tusk was still intact. He had long brown hair streaked with a few gray strands, which had been messily tied back. Multiple scars adorned his skin, some darker than others, and I'm sure he had a tale to go with every one of them.

Malath looked up, fixing his bloodshot blue eyes on me, and I hastily looked away, feeling myself blushing.

Malath coughed, and I looked back up, watching the Orsimer as he frowned and gently rubbed his chest.

"Are you sick?" I asked, and the Orsimer shrugged.

"Haven't been the same since I killed Alduin." He replied, "That sort of work takes a toll on a man's body, and spirit."

I nodded in agreement, knowing Malath had revealed a lot more to me than he probably intended. He was depressed, that much I knew, but there were a lot of issues that could be fixed with a little love and therapy. I smiled to myself, and stood up from the bench, my thoughts whirling. I wandered around the room, which was quite tiny, but spacious enough for one Orc, and inspected a few of the crates while Malath continued to drink, unaware of my snooping. What I found inside completely surprised me, there was an abundance of beautiful artifacts. I gasped, gently lifting up the scabbard of an ebony sword, running my hands over the intricate designs with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" Malath asked, slowly turning around to face me.

"Are _all _these crates filled with precious artifacts and weapons?" I asked; my voice filled with awe.

"Yeah," Malath replied, "collected everything back in the day."

"Did you ever…find any staffs, in your travels?" I asked, sounding hopeful. I was always on the lookout for a good staff.

Malath frowned, but nodded.

"They're upstairs, in the spare room. I never used them, figured they're worth something, but I never got around to selling any."

"Oh _joy_!" I exclaimed, "May I please see them?" I pleaded, placing the ebony sword back where I had found it. Malath nodded, leaning back and resting his elbow on the table, chuckling at me when I gave a loud whoop and rushed upstairs to see them.

I heard a knock at the door, and stopped, turning back towards the lower floor. I peered down at Malath, who continued to drink, and glanced back at the door.

"Did you hear a knock?" I called down, and Malath placed his goblet down.

"Yeah, it's my damn housecarl." He growled. "Go on, look at the staffs, she'll be gone in a minute."

I consented, continuing into the second bedroom, which was small and filled with staffs. My mouth hung open as I stared, incredulous, at the massive collection of staffs the Orsimer had.

_He must have encountered a lot of mages, and came out the winner_, I thought to myself, diving into the sea of magical weapons with enthusiasm.

I had picked up a staff of fire, one of many by the looks of things, when I heard Malath's raised voice.

"How many time must I insult you before you leave me alone, woman?" He exclaimed angrily, and I heard the tinkling of bottles, and assume he was rifling through the cupboard for more alcohol.

"But my _Thane,_"came a woman's urgent reply, "I am sworn to protect and serve you, I take my job very seriously."

"Too seriously," Malath replied venomously, "I have not required you for years Lydia!"

"Look around!" Malath continued, his voice rising in volume, and I gently laid the staff down, and moved towards the doorway, peering out. A female Nord stood by the fire, her armored arms crossed and a look of disgust on her face. I frowned, continuing to eavesdrop, and it wasn't hard, The Orc had a good set of lungs.

"I am a drunk and a deadbeat, you stupid cow," Malath yelled. I could not see him, for he was out of my view, but I could hear the man as he slammed his fists down on the table.

"I insult you every time you come here, and yet you still come back to me. I hate you Lydia, and I know damn well the feeling is mutual, so do us all a favor and leave me the fuck alone!"

Lydia blinked, frowning, and did not reply for a moment.

"Unless you _are_ here to suck my cock, dear Lydia, You are truly useless to me."

I grimaced, watching Lydia as she turned around and left Breezehome without another word, shocked at Malath's outburst. He sure had a temper. I waited a few minutes before walking down the stairs to face Malath; he sat by the fire with a bottle of mead in his hand and did not notice me at first.

"Oh shit," He murmured, glancing over at me, and he looked away when he saw my disappointment.

"That was a little harsh," I whispered, and Malath sighed.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, sighing.

"You're not sorry you said it, but you're sorry I heard you talking so horribly to your Housecarl."

Malath frowned.

"I guess," he growled, scowling at the fire, and he took another swig of mead.

"You're not a deadbeat." I continued.

"What?"

"You're an alcoholic, that much is true." I took the other chair and dragged it near him, sitting down. "But you're not a deadbeat."

"Oh yeah? What do you call this then," he spat, gesturing to the messy home, and then to himself.

"After Alduin was slain, there was nothing left for you," I speculated, staring at my hands. "But people haven't forgotten you, you'll always be remembered. I read every book on your accomplishments when I first joined the college, you're a hero."

"I was a hero, now I am nobody."

"No!" I replied angrily. Reaching forward, I grabbed his scarred hand and held it firmly with my own. The gesture shocked Malath, and his eyes widened.

"That is not true," I insisted. "Your name is recorded in History, and that will never go away."

"Stop," Malath replied, his voice cracking, and he quickly wrenched his hand back, rising hastily to his feet. He retreated to the bench and plopped himself down, turning his back to me.

"You don't know me," He growled, and then the Orc was silent.

I sat by the fire; my hands clasped tightly in my lap, and tried to come up with a way to bring back the fires in the Dragonborn's life.

_He just needs a little nudge, I told myself_, glancing over at his dark form from time to time. _There's a broken man inside that tough shell. _


	4. Stay

Stay

* * *

I couldn't keep mad at the girl for very long, and to be honest I wasn't truly mad to begin with. Lenia had said some things that made me think about my life, how I could change things, and that was dangerous thinking. So, I did what I do best, and tried to drown my thoughts in drink, although this time I found myself hesitant to go too far because the girl still sat quietly by the fireside, her hands clasped in her lap; not saying a word. Suddenly drinking wasn't _as _desirable. Eventually my grumpiness ebbed away, and I was left feeling ashamed for how rudely I had acted. How could a woman I barely knew have such a profound affect on me? It was baffling. These changes were happening all too rapidly, and I didn't even feel like being drunk anymore, so I watched Lenia for a while, noting how the firelight made her hair and skin glow. More dangerous thinking. I let out a long sigh.

I don't know how much time had passed, I never paid attention to the passing of the days anyways, when Lenia finally moved, rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her head. I watched her, and then hastily looked at the wall when she turned my way. I didn't know what to say to her now. I heard her move the chair back to its place.

"I guess I should leave."

Her soft voice floated over to me, and I turned to her. Lenia smoothed down the front of her blue mage's robes, stepping a little closer.

"Where are you from?" I asked, ignoring her comment.

Lenia blinked, and then moved to the bench and sat down beside me. I shifted my body so I was facing her, and peered down at the girl. Gods she was so short, but it suited her.

"Solitude," Lenia replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear, and I gulped down a mouthful of mead.

"And you're a battle mage," I commented, to which Lenia laughed.

"I wish!" she chuckled, "but no…I am just an apprentice."

"What brought you to Whiterun?"

Lenia sighed, and smiled softly, a distant look in her eyes. "I went home to visit my parents. It had been a few months since I left for Winterhold, and they were wishing to see me again. I am on my way back to the college, and decided to stop and re-supply here."

"Have you been to Whiterun before?"

"A few times, briefly."

"So," I ventured, getting to the point of my questions. "You will go to an Inn."

"Well that was the plan," Lenia replied, eying me with a curious gaze.

"You know there's a bed underneath all those staffs," I replied slowly, and the girl's face lit up.

"There's no point in wasting your money on a room up the way when I have a spare bedroom." I continued, coughing, and Lenia grinned.

"I don't wish to impose or anything…" She replied cheekily, and I snorted.

"Impose on what?" I growled, rolling my eyes, and Lenia laughed.

"Thank you Malath!" She exclaimed, bouncing slightly in her seat, and I gave her a crooked grin.

"If you clean up the staffs, you can keep as many as you can carry." I offered, and Lenia beamed.

"There must be something more I can do…" she replied thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

"Well…"

Lenia glanced over at me, and it was my turn to smile cheekily at her.

"When's dinner?" I asked, and the girl grinned.

"I make the best stew."

* * *

By the time I finished cleaning up the staffs into as neat of a pile as I could, I was ready to crash. The bed I had uncovered was small but soft, and relatively lacking with dust.

_I guess the staffs helped with that_, I thought to myself, chuckling.

After dinner, Mathas had continued his nightly ritual of drinking while I headed upstairs to clean, and I had taken the liberty of cleaning a little more than just the spare room. Many beautiful weapons decorate his bedroom walls, and I was temporarily distracted with them, admiring the craftsmanship. He truly had an incredible collection of things.

My pack lay slumped on the floor beside my feet, and I lay back on the bed for a little while, weary from my travels, although today had been amazing. I'd met the Dragonborn born; something I had longed to do since I was younger and the tales were just beginning to come true.

I think I must have fallen asleep, for I woke with a little jolt, and my back was aching from lying in such an uncomfortable position, my feet were still placed on the floor. I stood up and stretched, hearing a satisfying crack, and then shuffled out of the room and down the small staircase to the lower floor of Breezehome. The fire had died down, and Mathas had fallen asleep in the most awkward of positions on the bench. His back was bent at an uncomfortable angle, his neck arched at an odd angle; his head lay on the table. I knew he'd feel the pain in the morning if I didn't get him to his bed. I reached the table and firstly cleared up our dishes, retrieving Mathas's goblet, which had fallen on the floor. I cleaned up the spilt mead and then turned to Mathas, smiling to myself, for his snores were obnoxiously loud. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and it looked as though he had succeeded in dirtying his tunic even more, if that were possible.

As I watched him sleep, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the Orsimer. He had put his entire soul into saving Skyrim, and when it was saved I knew he felt lost.

_Nobody was there for him_, I thought sadly. _To keep him feeling valued. _

I sighed, and moved forward, hesitant to try and wake a drunken Orc, but he really did need a softer place to sleep, his health was poor enough as it was.

"Mathas," I whispered, gently touching his shoulder. He continued to snore, and I shook his shoulder slightly.

"Mathas," I called louder, and he grunted, pushing my arm away.

"Come on dear, time for bed." I called softly.

"Bugger off."

"Watch your mouth," I scolded. I knew I'd have to practically drag him upstairs. I knelt down, hoisting his arm around my shoulders. For a skinny Orc, he still weighed a ton, and his arm alone dwarfed my small shoulders. I tugged, and Mathas growled.

"Don't you dare make my tiny self drag your ass upstairs," I hissed, a smile on my lips. That seemed to get a reaction, and Mathas half complied. We both rose unsteadily to our feet; Mathas leaning most of his body weight on me and his eyes were half closed, and we shuffled painfully slow to the staircase.

Getting up the stairs was a whole other matter. We nearly climbed on all fours, and there was a lot of protesting and growling from the sleepy Mathas. At some point he wanted to lie down and I swore if I had let him he'd have slept right there on the staircase. I could just imagine the repercussions of the decision the next morning.

We finally reached the top. I felt like I had climbed a mountain; my chest was heaving from the physical labor and strands of my hair clung to my sweaty forehead. Perhaps I should have let him be, but I was too close to the finish line now.

We reached the bedroom, and I made to gently ease Mathas down but I lost my grip and he landed on the mattress quite heavily, not that it bothered him. His eyes were closed, and I smiled at my accomplishment, whispering goodnight. I turned to leave when he called out

"Don't leave me."

His voice was quite unlike him; there was desperateness in it that made my heart ache.

"Stay," he whispered hoarsely, and I couldn't say no.

"I'm here Mathas," I whispered, sitting down on the bed beside him. I didn't know if he was aware of what he was saying, or if the Orc was half dreaming, but I stayed there until I was positive he was asleep, before quietly making my way back to the spare bedroom.

I lay down on the bed and pulled the covers around me, blowing out the candle that I had lit earlier in the evening. My decision had been made; I needed to save the Dragonborn.


	5. More than just the Housekeeper

**More than just the Housekeeper**

* * *

My head was pounding, as it usually did after a night of drinking, and I groaned. I tensed for a moment, how did I get into my bed?

_Right…stubborn Lenia dragged my ass up here last night. _

I sighed, rubbing my aching eyes; _how could she be so kind_, I asked myself a few times. I could have been terribly angry when she woke me up, I could have been…violent.

I shuddered, and pulled myself into a sitting position, swaying slightly as the room suddenly spun way too fast. I sniffed, smelling the odor of something delicious, and my ears heard the sizzling of something being cooked in the single frying pan I owned. So Lenia had stuck around.

I clambered awkwardly to my feet and fumbled through a satchel for a health potion, which helped ease the pain in my temple immensely. I took my time to dress today, thoroughly searching in the drawers for the cleanest clothes I could muster, mumbling about the fact that I really did need to do the laundry. I opened the second drawer and to my complete surprise, found two neatly folded piles of clean tunics and pants.

I blinked, glancing around the room; noticing for the first time just how much cleaner my bedroom was.

"That little sneak," I growled softly, baffled. "She's not my housekeeper."

"Mathas?"

Her voice called out to me from downstairs, and I walked out into the landing, looking down at the girl.

"Good morning!" The elf exclaimed cheerfully. "I thought I heard you blundering around."

"Funny." I replied sarcastically, gripping the banister, and Lenia grinned.

"I was going to wait until you were up to fetch you water for a bath, are you ready for it?"

"You …you don't have to…" I muttered, and Lenia cocked her head to one side.

"I'm going to take that as a yes, I'll be up in a moment."

I sighed, returning to my bedroom, and sat down heavily on the bed, waiting for her. Lenia appeared a couple minutes later with a large pot of water, and she walked over to the disturbingly misused tub located in one corner of the room.

She poured the water in, and then lifted her hand, letting a spell of fire heat the water. I cringed, magic was _not _my thing.

"Breakfast will be ready when you come downstairs," Lenia told me, retrieving the pot, and walked towards the doors.

"Why are you so nice?" I blurted without thinking, and then hastily closed my mouth. She turned around to look at me, a smile on her face. Did the girl ever look unhappy?

_She sure was mad when she punched the merchant,_ I remembered with an inward chuckle.

"Why not? I like you," she replied smoothly, and then left the room before I could choke out a reply. I felt my face grow warm, and busied myself with dealing with a bath to take my mind off of things.

I stripped my filthy clothes off and placed a hesitant foot in the tub, surprised at how perfect the temperature of the water was. Steam floated around my calf, and I quickly climbed in, sinking into the warm liquid with a content growl. It wasn't too bad, bathing, and I admitted it made my old bones feel a lot better after. I took the bar of soap (which I didn't know I even owned) and dragged it along my green skin, amazed at how murky the water became when I was done.

_I'm disgusting_, I thought with a curl of my lip, and stood up. I shivered, feeling the droplets of water cool on my skin, and dried, walking back over to the dresser. I picked up a tunic and shoved it over my head. I fumbled with the laced of my pants; frustrated that I couldn't function as efficiently as I wished, but knew it was my own doing. I smoothed my hair back, suddenly curious to what I looked like. I retrieved the only mirror I had, a little hand held thing made of silver I had brought back from my travels, and took a deep breath.

Do I really want to know? I asked, and the answer was yes.

I wasn't as shocked as I was expecting it to be, the Orsimer that stared back at me was not the most ugly brute in the world. Sure, my eyes were bloodshot, that was a given with the nature of my hobby, and I had dark bags under my eyes. I scowled at my cracked tusk, and quickly placed the mirror back down. _That _story was a sore spot, and I did not wish to think about it.

I hoped I hadn't been making Lenia wait too long, so I quickly left the bedroom and blundered noisily down the stairs into the first level of Breezehome. The warmth of a happily crackling fire greeted me, and the smell of food bombarded my senses.

"I thought you'd drowned," came Lenia's ever-cheerful voice, and she appeared from the other room with a handful of soul gems.

"You're just full of jokes this morning," I replied, and Lenia laughed.

"I hope you don't mind…" Lenia held a few of the gems up to show what she had found. "I don't think you're the soul gem type."

"They're yours."

I turned to the bench and sat down, eager to begin my meal, which turned out to be quite good. I praised her cooking; taking a swig of what I thought was wine, only to find it was water.

"Yuck," I complained, and Lenia rolled her eyes at me.

"Water is good for you, silly."

"Wine tastes better," I retorted.

Lenia frowned, and I turned back to my food, feeling a little awkward.

"How old are you?" I asked after a few moments of silence. I had been curious to know for a while, but it slipped my mind.

"Twenty four winters, and you're thirty two if I'm not mistaken."

I blinked, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

"The textbook told me your age when you defeated Alduin, I did the math." She explained in between mouthfuls.

"Oh."

"I wish I had brought one with me, I own all three volumes. They're wonderful accounts."

I shrugged, taking a bite of my scrambled eggs.

"What are your plans for today?"

"Well," Lenia turned towards me, her eyes sparkling mischievously, and I looked at her with suspicion.

"Will you accompany me on my errands?" She asked.

"Why do you want me tagging along?"

"Because, you know Whiterun, and of course because I enjoy your company."

I pondered it, wondering if she were up to something a little more than just wanting my company. She stared back, her blue eyes betraying nothing, and I took another sip of water, grimacing.

"Okay," I replied, surprised by my response.

"Excellent!"

_What did I get myself into?_

* * *

I nearly had to fight the big green baby to ditch the creepy wraith cloak he was so fond of. It was gray and tattered, and made him appear like a beggar.

"That's the way I like it," Mathas had argued, "Nobody bothers me."

"That's just silly," I replied, removing it from his grasp. The Orsimer scowled.

"Don't look at me like that." I scolded.

In the end I won, and Mathas left the house looking like a decent man, with a slightly faded black cloak that had no hood to hide under, and certainly no holes. I felt like a proud momma, and was positively beaming while we walked to the Arcadia's Cauldron. He wouldn't let up the scowl.

"You could at least _pretend_ to enjoy my company," I complained to him, before opening the door to the shop.

I busied myself with Arcadia, getting the proper vials of potions I would need for the rest of my trip, as well as a few ingredients; I enjoyed dabbling with alchemy here and there when I had the time. My specialty was conjuration but I did have interest in all the fields. Mathas stood near the door, watching me while I interacted with the woman, and was surprisingly a gentleman, coming over to hold the packages once I had finished paying.

"Thank you," I murmured, ignoring the odd glance Arcadia shot us, more so the curious glance she offered Mathas. I wondered if she even knew who he was.

We left the store, and continued to a few more places, detouring a trip home to drop off my items. Mathas made to remove his shoes when I told him my next errand.

"I wish to speak with Farengar Secret-Fire, the Jarl's wizard," I explained, moving back to the door. "You can come along if you wish, but I know you don't like magic."

Mathas paused, looking up at me, and I smiled.

"Okay," he replied, nodding. "I'll stay here."

I left Breezehome and headed up the street towards Dragonsreach, a place I had never been before. I climbed the winding stone staircase up to the Jarl's place, greeting the guard standing outside the doors before I headed inside. I found Farengar in a little side room to the hall, pouring over a couple of spell tomes.

He was a formidable fellow; can't say he was the kindest mage I have ever met, but he listened to me and had much to offer.

"Conjure flame atronach," he mumbled, and I nodded.

"Yes, I think I am ready to learn it, do you have a copy of the tome for purchase?"

"I think so, just a moment."

The mage disappeared into another, smaller room, and I waited patiently by the table. He returned a minute later with a book in his hand, and I rocked on the balls of my feet.

"Here it is," He called, and I was ecstatic.

"Oh that's so wonderful!" I replied happily, taking the book from his outstretched hands, and cradled it in my own. I could feel the low humming of magic that vibrated off of it, tingling with excitement and anticipation.

"How much?"

"Ninety nine gold."

"Done."

_Today went incredibly well,_ I told myself once I was heading back towards Breezehome. Mathas became a little more like an Orsimer and less like a zombie, and I got all my supplies.

I had been thinking all day of how I was going to convince the stubborn man to go with me to Winterhold. He needed to get outside the walls of Whiterun, to find the spark again. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I had to try anyways, I couldn't let the Dragonborn waste away.

I became a little nervous the closer I reached him, because I had to tell Mathas soon, so I could have enough time to argue.

_Perhaps the element of surprise might work,_ I mulled, _just throw it out there and then fight until I win. _

I sighed, stopping just outside the door. It was now or never.

I stepped inside, finding the Orsimer out of sight.

"Mathas?" I called out, and I heard a muffled response, and female giggling.

My stomach dropped, was he entertaining?

Mathas appeared a moment later, his chest heaving and bare, and the laces to his breeches undone. I swallowed hard, feeling my face grow red.

"I-it's a bad time…." I whispered, and then Arcadia stumbled out from the room.

"Woops!" she laughed, adjusting her skirt. "I'll be leaving now."

Arcadia moved unsteadily down the staircase and walked past me without another word, and left Breezehome.

"I thought…I thought you'd be a bit longer," Mathas blabbered, looking very uncomfortable and embarrassed.

I didn't know what to think, so I shrugged it off.

"It's okay, I'm an intrusion anyway," I replied quietly, moving over to the bench. Mathas open up his mouth to speak but remained silent.

I placed the bottle of wine I had purchased for us to have with dinner on the wooden table and started to climb the stairs, while Mathas moved back into the bedroom. He came out completely dressed, and watched me as I placed the spell tome down on my bed.

"What's that?" He asked, still sounding a little embarrassed, and I coughed.

"Oh uh, just a spell tome for conjuration."

"Is that what you do?"

"I have knowledge in a lot of areas, but conjuration is my primary interest," I replied quietly, turning to him.

"So you like…conjure things to fight for you," he stated, and I nodded.

"Pretty much."

There was an awkward silence; neither of us knew what to say.

"So, I'll start dinner."

I walked downstairs and began pulling ingredients out. Mathas joined me, moving over to the bench, and picked up the bottle of wine.

"Vintage… this is expensive wine!"

I had my back to him, and I rolled my eyes, though I did not show my annoyance in my tone of voice.

"I bought it for us to have with dinner," I explained. I started to chop up carrots, and Mathas sat down, watching me while I prepped the food. I couldn't get the image of Arcadia, laughing and breathless as she came out of his bedroom, out of my mind.

_Now or never. _

"Mathas," I started, placing the knife down. The Orsimer looked up at me, and I took a deep breath.

"I think you should come to Winterhold with me."


	6. And then she got to me

**And Then She Got to Me**

* * *

Did I hear her right? Go to Winterhold… specifically to the college of _mages. _No way in oblivion. This girl was nuts if she thought I'd go near that place again.

"No," I croaked, turning back to my drink. I stared at the murky liquid, my heart thudding against my ribcage.

Lenia was silent for a few moments while she gathered her ingredients and flung them into a pot, and then moved over to the fire pit. She turned back to me, a frown on her face.

"I can't leave you here like this," she replied quietly, crossing her arms. "Don't you want to do something with the rest of your life?"

"No," I repeated, my breathing becoming unsteady; we were charting dangerous territory.

"I know there's still an adventurer inside of you," Lenia continued, her voice soft and comforting. I scowled at my wine cup and tried to ignore her, although it was terribly hard not to listen. Something was threatening to stir deep inside of me; something made me listen to the elf's words but I struggled against it.

"Let me take you outside these walls and show you that there is something worth living for," She pleaded, stepping closer, and I growled quietly, a whirlwind of emotions crashed against me and I felt like a boiling kettle; sitting there on the bench with a cup clenched tightly in my fist.

"Stop it," I mumbled, wishing to stop the conversation. I stood up made to escape to the bedroom when Lenia moved faster than I could in my intoxicated state, pinning me between the bench and the wall.

"I knew this was going to be hard," she breathed quietly, her hand firmly gripping my arm, and she smiled sadly at me. I felt my throat constrict, and coughed, looking away from her.

"You're the Dragonborn," she whispered thickly, her voice filled with emotion that made my chest ache. "That will never go away. Your name is written in history."

_Dragonborn. _

"I'm just an Orsimer," I spat back, careful not to say too much lest my voice betray my real feelings. I swallowed hard, and tried to push her away. Lenia was stronger than I thought, and she held me there, her gaze piercing into me.

"I wouldn't be here without you, none of us would. Because of _you_, Mathas, we are alive and well."

I scowled, clenching my fists.

"Big deal."

"Where is your pride," she continued sharply, her voice taking an edge to it. I glanced over, seeing the tears that swelled in her eyes, and her jaw was firmly set.

"You are an Orsimer, there is no prouder race than you. What kind of life is this?"

I twitched and raised my arm. For a moment I almost forgot who was speaking to me. She had struck a nerve, and I nearly struck the girl.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, her voice even and calm. "Going to hit me?"

I let out a deep breath, and bowed my head in shame. I had almost hit the woman who was trying to help me.

_Why can't I live anymore? What is wrong with me?_

My internal voice screamed at me, a floodgate of thoughts pounding into my head. I couldn't shut them out, and I groaned, sinking back onto the bench.

_You're a drunken mess, day after day. What happened to glory and a good adventure? What happened to the man I used to be?_

_I should have been stronger than this, I should have found a way to keep busy and continue the lifestyle my soul yearns for. Became a mercenary…or a….a..._

"Mathas," Lenia murmured, kneeling down beside me.

"No! I roared, pushing her back. She fell onto her rump and I ignored her, moving unsteadily to my feet and making my way for the stairs.

"You can live again!" Lenia cried, and she quickly blocked my way.

Before I could move her, Lenia jerked my arm forward and pulled me into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped firmly around my shoulders and my head tucked perfectly into the crook of her neck. Her touch dissolved my willpower, and I froze, unable to break free from the gesture.

"I-I…"

"Let me help you," she whispered, and I felt her hot tears on my neck. She held me tighter, her soft hair brushing against my skin and I felt something wet on my cheeks. I was crying.

A sob escaped my lips and I crushed Lenia to my chest, burying my face against her, and I cried for the first time in many years. I cried because I felt pain, and I cried because I felt helpless to change it. My wall had been broken down by an elf, and there was no going back.

_It has been so long since I last felt another being's touch._

"I want to feel alive again," I gasped, choking on my cries, and Lenia's shoulders shook as she cried with me, clutching onto my shirt. We stood there for hours, or maybe it was moments but it felt like a lifetime. The fire crackled behind me, warming my back, but it was Lenia who had wrapped me in her warm embrace. How could a stranger be so unconditional?

Eventually the girl pulled back, hesitantly so, and lifted my chin up. This time I met her blue eyes, and allowed her to gently brush my cheeks with her thumb, and I closed my eyes as she did so.

"Come on sweetheart," Lenia whispered, "We need our rest. Tomorrow is a big day."

My brows creased, and my heart skip a beat. Was I really going to Winterhold with her? But even as I asked myself that question I knew the answer was yes, so I nodded, and she took my hand, leading me up to the second floor.

* * *

"Stay with me tonight, I don't think I can be alone."

"I will," came my reply, without hesitation.

Mathas was vulnerable and I had opened up a lot of old wounds.

I lead him into the bedroom and pulled the covers back, watching as the Orsimer climbed into bed and looked over at me. His face was tear streaked and he looked worn down, but I felt my heart swell at the incredible breakthrough I had had.

I walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, unsure of what to do with myself. I didn't have to figure it out, for once I had tucked the covers around me, Mathas moved closer, and I instinctively reached my arms out for him.

He lay on his side and wrapped his arm around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, feeling his breath tickle my skin.

"In case you were wondering," Mathas murmured sleepily, "Arcadia and I didn't do anything."

"Oh?" I inquired, a ripple of relief coursing through me.

"She could talk your ears off," he mumbled, settling down, and I couldn't suppress a small smile.

Exhausted, we were both asleep in a matter of minutes.


	7. I'm Leaving

I'm Leaving

* * *

I could feel the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and she snored ever so softly. It was adorable, and I lay there for quite some time after I had woken up, reveling in the feeling of her arms wrapped around me. I felt like a coddled child, and it felt good. Last night…when I thought about it, it made me shiver at how raw Lenia had gotten me. I had almost been crushed by my own thoughts alone, something I used to drown out with wine every night. There had not been a lot of talking, but she didn't need to use her words to convince me to leave Whiterun. No, her touch alone was what saved me.

My arm had fallen asleep, and after a while it became too unbearable, so I rolled onto my back and yawned, listening as Lenia shifted beside me and when I glanced over she was laying her side now, facing me, her eyes still closed and fast asleep. I quietly sat up and placed my feet down on the chilly floorboards, scratching my stubbly chin, and then rose to my feet, feeling less groggy than I ever had in a long time. It wasn't as large of a chore to find my dresser and pull out clothes, a pair that the girl had cleaned for me. I checked to make sure she was still asleep. I surprised myself as a smile rose to my lips while I watched her sleeping form; she looked so peaceful, so innocent.

I slipped my rumpled tunic over my head and shoved the clean one on, following the same manner with m breeches. I realized with a small jolt of excitement and nervousness that I'd need to dig out some armor if I was indeed expected to travel, and this was not some elaborate dream that my cracked mind had conjured up. I'd have really lost it if that were the case.

"Mathas?"

Her voice brought me back to the present, and I turned to her. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head and smiled sleepily at me. It was too much, and even I had to admit it made my stomach twist into knots.

Lenia pushed the covers back and climbed out of my bed, padding over to me. I stood still, unsure of what she was doing, and then the elf reached up and pulled me into a hug.

"Did you sleep well?" Lenia asked as I returned the gesture. I still wasn't used to it.

"Yeah," I replied gruffly, coughing. I didn't like how she made me feel so emotional. It was hard not to laugh at the state of her curly hair, which stuck up in all directions around her face, and then I scowled when she turned her back to me and retrieved her discarded shoes. I almost called her cute.

_I am an Orsimer; I do not think things are cute. _

Lenia continued her way down to the lower level, and I could hear her rustling through the cupboard. My stomach growled; we hadn't eaten dinner the night before. I joined her downstairs and poured myself a cup of water, forcing myself to start the day on a good foot, for Lenia's sake. I looked up to find her staring at me, one thin eyebrow raised.

"What?" I blurted out.

"You know that's water, right?"

I scowled, and Lenia laughed.

"Shove it," I replied gruffly, gulping down the tasteless drink.

I wandered over to the fire pit and glanced down at the blacked mess of what was supposed to be last night's dinner, chucking to myself.

"What's so funny? Oh."

Lenia sighed and picked up the pot, moving back towards the barrel that held water, and scooped a few cups into the charred cookware.

"Just leave it," I told her, walking over to the elf. "We'll get a new one."

"Are you sure?" Lenia replied quietly, biting her lip, and I blinked. She looked upset, and over a ruined piece of metal. I swallowed hard, unsure of how to deal with such a girl.

"O-of course, it's not a big deal." I replied more gruffly than I had intended, but Lenia's expression lightened considerably after a few minutes, and she was well on her way to frying up eggs for the two of us. I poured myself another drink and did some thinking.

_I'll be traveling with a small elf to the College of Winterhold. _

I frowned, watching Lenia as she cooked. I did vow I'd never go back to that place, and I was surprised to be able to stand being around Lenia knowing she was a mage. I had to wonder what she wanted me to do.

"Lenia," I called out, and the girl glanced over.

"What exactly do are you asking of me?" I inquired, and Lenia was silent for a moment while she brought over our breakfast and dished it out onto two worn silver plates.

"Well, I know you don't like magic…" Lenia started, sighing at my darkened expression. "I know you've been there before, Urag told me you've been to him in the college, when you were searching for an Elder Scroll."

She sure knew a lot about my career. I was silent, waiting for her to finish.

"We have nothing but respect for you, and since you obviously performed the necessary test to gain entrance to begin with, I figured you could join me in my tasks."

I mulled over what she had said, remembering the only time I had cast a spell. It had been a weak spell, just a small fireball, but I had no choice at the time, I was running out of time and looking for answers.

"What are your tasks?" I asked quietly, and Lenia smiled.

"I don't know what the future holds, or if it will be stand up to the task of entertaining the legendary Dragonborn, but for starters I have to travel to Saarthal and meet the other apprentices there for an excavation."

"So we're not actually going to the College first," I replied, feeling a little hopeful. It's not the first place I'd like to go to after stepping outside Whiterun for the first time in over three years. That sure was a killjoy.

"Nope." Lenia grinned. "Saarthal first."

I smiled a little, an excavation I could handle.

"Alright," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady though my heart beat raced. "Guess we should leave soon then hunh?"

* * *

I knew Mathas was trying to buy time, insisting we go through every crate in his entire house, which were filled to the brim, and then make decisions as to what he would take. That took a good hour or so, until the picky Orc finally settled on a very worn set of ebony armor.

"This looks a little different," I mused, holding up the chest piece. There were no shoulder pauldrons for one; I could sense this set was a little different. "Enchanted?"

"Yup," Mathas replied. "The only magical thing I like is that ebony."

"Very interesting," I murmured, watching the Orsimer as he puttered around the crates, gently cradling artifacts in his hands as he placed everything back in the correct place. It was very orderly.

Two satchels had been dug out for him, as well as a very beautiful ebony sword.

"Going with a theme here," I joked, taking the sword from Mathas's hands as he handed it to me.

"S'good stuff," he muttered, and I nodded.

We spent another half an hour packing up the satchels, the one I had brought and Mathas's. It took a good ten minutes to help him into his armor, as he was quite restricted with movement, and the Orsimer was very tense while I worked.

"Can you… stop—Mathas!" I huffed, wrenching on his arm. He had it glued to his side and I moved in front of him to figure out what was going on. He stared at me, but he was focused on something beyond, and I panicked a little bit.

"M-Mathas what's wrong?" I asked softly, and the Orsimer chuckled, but it was unsettling to hear.

"Funny," he replied slowly, suddenly moving. He lifted up one armored arm and looked down at half of his ebony armor. His hips down were still just breeches. "Feels like a second skin still." He whispered.

I sighed in relief, and then quickly punched his arm. Mathas growled, finally focusing on me, and staggered back a few steps.

"What was that for?" He barked.

"For making me worry!" I replied angrily, but I was smiling. "I thought you'd turned to stone!"

"Oh," Mathas replied, and shook his head. "Sorry."

"It's ok," I said softly, moving forward. I finished helping him put his armor on and stood back to look at my handiwork, a grin on my face.

He looked _incredible._

"Wow," I commented breathlessly.

"What?" Mathas glanced down nervously, fidgeting with the gauntlets.

"You look like a hero," I replied, and I daresay the Orsimer blushed, though it was hard to tell with his dark skin.

"Oh stop," he replied darkly, "I am half the Orc I was when I last wore this armor, and I need to fill it out."

"Well you are a bit thin," I admitted, "but you look good. Once a warrior always a warrior, and you carry yourself like you haven't spent a day away from an adventure."

That struck a chord, and Mathas turned away from me. I watched as he brought a hand up to his face, and I couldn't tell if he was crying out not but I felt a little bad for overwhelming him so early in the morning.

_Please don't back out now_, I pleaded silently.

He stood with his back to me, and I picked up the ebony scabbard, bringing it over to Mathas.

"Here." I tapped his chain mailed shoulder, and the Orc turned around. "Nearly ready."

We stood by the door, adjusting our packs and double-checking for supplies. I wore my mages robes and sturdy leather boots, and two staffs were strapped to my back along with my satchel. Mathas's ebony sword hung by his side and it looked completely at home. I tried not to beam with happiness; the _Dragonborn_ would be traveling with me! Just some nobody apprentice; it was truly an honor.

We entered into the street and Mathas locked the door, taking his sweet time to do so. I knew he was nervous, and I tried to be as comforting as possible. We traveled the short distance to the gates and before I could push the wooden door open I realized Mathas stood a couple feet back, unmoving.

"Mathas?"

He didn't answer me, and the guards gave him a few curious glances.

"I haven't left Whiterun for three and a half years," he whispered, his voice so deep and low that I barely caught what he said.

"Now's a good time, good weather," I replied cheerfully, but he didn't move a muscle. I sighed.

"Come on," I continued quietly, "don't make me hold your hand in front of all these men."

Mathas glanced sharply at me, and I stuck my tongue out at him. He shook himself out of his stupor and strode forward, pushing open the gate door. He continued walking, never looking back at the city, and did not stop until we had made it a good ways down the road.

"I'm proud of you," I called out, nearly have to run to catch up with the tall roaming Orsimer, "but you're going the wrong direction.

Mathas stopped, and I think he saw his surroundings for the first time.

His laughter echoed in my ears, startling nearby deer, and it was the nicest sound in the world.


	8. Old Habits Die Hard

_Happy Birthday to my very special muse. It was so hard to get back into writing, but it was well worth the effort. Enjoy._  
_Also, my grammar might be a little off, without the handy dandy "Word" for Mac, I'm on a simple text edit that only corrects misspellings. Apologies in advance if I didn't catch everything._

* * *

Old Habits Die Hard

* * *

I don't understand myself sometimes, I really don't. Why did I choose to go with a mage of all people, to a place I hate more than anything… I'll never know. It must have been her charm, that sweet little smile and big heart. It was compelling; even if I didn't ask for the help, she was going to give it to me. I refused to admit to myself that I was out of shape, as the sky turned brighter and the sun began to seriously warm me up. Sweat began forming on my forehead and It dripped down my back sweltering hot under the armor. I could feel just how disastrously out of shape I had become, as my calves started burning lightly with each step, and my lungs felt raw trying to take in air. It grew worse, and yet I plodded on without complaint, aware of her presence beside me, aware of her eyes on me. I knew she was watching to make sure I was alright, and that just fueled me to continue, to push harder.

"Mathas," Lenia's voice called out for the first time since we started walking, and I was startled, but continued my steady pace, feeling the fiery burn of muscles that hadn't been used for ages screaming in agony at me.

"Mathas," Lenia's voice persisted, and I continued to ignore her. "Perhaps we should stop and rest a while? It's nearly noon."

"Why?" I growled breathlessly, shooting the elf a glance. She kept a pace back from me, and did not look even a small bit phased by the walk. "Cause I'm old and withered?"

"Mathas…" Lenia replied quietly, catching up to me, and she lay a hand on my armored shoulder. Finally I stopped, and rested my hands on my thighs, gasping for air.

"Drink," she commanded, handing me a water skin, and I gratefully accepted it. "You know you can't just throw yourself back into the swing of things, it'll take time to get your endurance and strength back to it's old glory."

"pshaw!" I spat at the ground and roughly pushed the water skin back into her hands, and started at a brisk walk.

"You're such a stubborn Orc!" Lenia called after me, and after hastily stuffing the skin back into her satchel she effortlessly caught up with me, since I couldn't walk very far very quickly.

"yeah… so… so what?" I replied, feeling my throat constrict tightly.

"We need to stop Mathas, it's time for a bite to eat and a rest. I'm not treating you any differently, I need a break too."

"You?" I replied, mock surprise ringing in my voice. I stopped walking, and stared out at the plains of Whiterun hold, my chest heaving. Instead of taking the main road we had decided to cut through the land to save time, which was quite alright with me considering how many times I had walked this country. I knew from experience that taking the roads didn't always make it safe. "You need to rest? You're just floating beside me, without so much as breaking a sweat."

"That's not true…" Lenia scoffed, and before I could stop her the girl caught my hand and brought it up to her forehead, pressing my palm against her golden skin. She was in fact, sweating, although no where near as much as I.

"Okay okay," I grumbled, hastily retracting my hand from hers, and silently thanked the chance to rest. I wouldn't let her see my relief, and had to resist the urge to throw myself down on the ground. Instead, I gently lowered my pack and sank to my knees, sighing quietly under my breath as my legs praised me for giving them a break. It felt so wonderful…I almost didn't want to get back up again. I sifted through my pack and found a few strips of Horker jerky, which I hastily consumed, along with a bit more water. Lenia sank down intro the golden grass, and after retrieving her own meal she gazed out at the plains before us as she ate. I watched her inconspicuously, noticing that the wind had picked up a little bit and now played with a few strands of her hair. I shook my head and forced my eyes away, gulping down a few more sips of water, and then awkwardly clambered to my feet; which was no easy thing to do in my state.

_How in Oblivion did I ever wear armor_? I thought to myself, growling quietly.

My body had not been prepared for the confines I had put it in, and I knew it was only going to get worse before it got better. With that frustrating realization, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared pointedly at the elf, who hadn't noticed me stand up. I coughed.  
"Ready?" Lenia asked, glancing over at me. I nodded, and she put her things away. The girl rose gracefully to her feet and smiled at me, to which I returned the gesture with a small scowl and stalked back down the unbeaten path, heading North.

* * *

We stopped for camp just after sunset. If I was grateful to be sitting at noon, I was even more grateful for the rest now. My body had reached past the point of feeling pain and was entirely numb, and I knew I'd feel the after affects of having pushed myself too hard- the next morning. I grimaced, not bothering to try and sit down with some dignity, and flopped down on to the grass still warm from the day's sunshine. It rustled quietly, and my hearing picked up many sounds that I hadn't heard in a long time- bird call, the wind as it danced through the blades of grass and wheat, the sounds of nature that I had long since neglected to revel in as I drove deeper into my darkness back in Breezehome.

There was a crackle, and I glanced over to find Lenia lighting a fire with her mage-flames. She had gathered what wood she could find in the area and now set about preparing a hot meal. I didn't offer to help… I was grumpier than a pissed off Daedra after today's excursion, and although my body begged to sleep my mind was buzzing. I had felt the thrill creep up my spine when I stepped foot outside Whiterun, the excitement of a new adventure, and a slight fear… although I'd never admit it, since I was not the same warrior I used to be when I was Dragonborn. Was. I suppose I still am the Dragonborn, but a useless one. There were no more dragons in Skyrim, at least no one had spotted them for over a year. I kept the knowledge of my shout, the one that would summon Odahviing; to myself.

Her voice brought me out of my thoughts. "Mathas? You okay? You're awfully quiet over there."  
I turned my head and met Lenia's warm gaze, feeling a scowl cross my features.

"I'm tired." I replied simply, and my then my stomach growled. "Hungry too."

"Well, it'll be ready in a minute." Lenia replied quietly, turning back to the cooking pot.

I wearily dragged my hand across my face, silently berating myself for being such an ass to the girl. She was just trying to help me. I reckoned with myself a little bit, noting that it has been so long since I've interacted with people.  
_She's just going to have to get used to it_, I thought firmly, and then as an afterthought; _by Malacath I could use a glass or four of wine._

I could feel that familiar pull, the one that urged me to drink my troubles away. I had felt it throughout the day, but at night time it was always worse; if I were still at home I wouldn't have that problem, I'd be drunk by the middle of the afternoon.  
I went about setting up my bedroll, trying not to groan too loudly as my body protested against such movement, and when I was finished I was handed a bowl of stew.

"Smells good," I mumbled, eagerly spooning a mouthful of potato and beef. I could admit by now that she was a decent cook.

"Thanks," Lenia replied softly, laying down her bedroll as well. I watched as she served herself and then sat down across from me. By the firelight I could see her clearly as the girl gently blew on her spoonful of stew so it would cool down, and resisted the urge to chuckle. I paid no heed to the temperature of mine as I quickly gulped down my bowl full, and then served myself another.

"There's a few bread rolls," Lenia's voice called from my left, and I put the spoon back down, looking for the bread. I grabbed one for myself and tossed another to the elf, earning a broad smile.

"So," Lenia started, after I had sat back down with a murmur of curse words. "How was your first day back?"

"Back?"

"Yeah, back to work as an adventurer."

"Oh." I replied, tearing off a chunk of the broad with my teeth. I chewed for a moment, thinking. "Okay I guess, still wondering if this was a good idea or not."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Lenia inquired, and I shrugged, taking a deep breath.

"Even… even being back here, in a place I love…. I still want to drink my face off."

"Mathas…" Lenia replied, coming over to me. I frowned, but she did not try to touch me, and instead sat down on my bedroll. "That's only natural. You've been sober for one day. I know this isn't going to be easy right away, but eventually it will get better."

"I hope you're right," I replied, surprising myself by my response. Lenia smiled up at me reassuringly, and I sighed. "I hope you're right…"

* * *

Waking Mathas the next morning was like rousing a sleeping sabre cat. No…. make that five. I'd never seen such an outburst from him before, it was almost amusing, except for the angry part.

"Mathas…" I called out softly, wary about getting to close to the guy. He lay on his bedroll, snoring quite loudly, with his back to me. "Mathas!" I poked his shoulder a few times, and then quickly retreated out of arms reach, which was a good thing. The Orsimer violently swung his arm out and then groaned, rolling onto his back. His eyes were still closed.

"….Fuck off."

"Hey… I won't stand for verbal abuse mister Orc. It's time to rise and shine!"

"I swear to God Lenia, if you don't leave me alone…" Mathas threatened, his voice full of anger.

"Come on, can't you feel the pain already?" I tried to reason with him. "The sooner you get up and moving, silly, the better it will be."

He was silent; I thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep again.

"Mathas…?"

"By Malacath Lenia!" Mathas roared, swiftly moving into a sitting position. I watched, cowering by the ashes of last night's fire, as the Orc slowly realized just how much his body hurt. It was a sad sight.

"Oh Gods…" he mumbled, and his hands started to shake. I hesitated. I had a calming spell prepared and a health potion in one hand, but I didn't want to provoke the sabre.

"Lenia, Lenia oh Gods!" Mathas whimpered, and I quickly rushed forward.

"Shh, shh Mathas, everything's okay," I whispered soothingly, rubbing his back. His eyes were tightly closed, and I could tell he was resisting the urge to cry; his hands bunched up into fists. I cast my calming spell, letting it wash over him, and continued to rub his back. "Drink this, you'll feel a bit better. It'll numb your pain to a dull ache."

_I knew he was going to have some problems, an Orsimer hiding in his home for years was bound to have complications with his body,_ _but perhaps this was not the best way to go about it. A gradual integration would have served him better._

I felt horrible, but once Mathas had finished drinking the contents of the bottle and handed it back to me, he let out a shaky sigh and his hands relaxed. The Orsimer slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the morning sunlight, and glanced over at me.

"Next time let me fucking sleep," he growled, roughly pushing my arm back. I fell onto my rump, but I was did not get angry. I watched Mathas as he climbed unsteadily to his feet and stalked away from the camp, before getting to my feet and lightly brushing my clothes.

"Well, that wasn't too bad." I spoke out loud, and then I waited for the grumpy guss to come back.

Getting his armor back on was a nightmare, filled with a constant stream of curse words and empty threats to hit me.

"Maybe I should sleep in it," He growled, wincing when I tightened the strap of his chest piece.

"No, that would be worse!" I exclaimed, softly whacking the metal plate, and earned myself a wordless growl.

"What day is it?" Mathas asked after a minute, and I raised my eyebrow up in curiosity. "What?" he scoffed, "Orcs aren't allowed to know what day it is? Shall I just continue blundering blindly into the wilderness with you unaware of time and distance?"

"Calm down, your question just seems random, that's all." I replied quietly, stepping back. "It's the First of Sun's Dawn."

"Huh…" Mathas replied quietly, and snorted. "Okay. Let's go." He began climbing the hill and I followed closely behind him.

I watched Mathas while we traveled. The day before he seemed uncomfortable and angry that I watched him, and was always scowling and glancing back at me. However today he stared ahead of him the entire time. It was almost as though he'd forgotten I was there. It made me very curious.

When we stopped for lunch at noon, Mathas didn't protest. He wordlessly lowered his pack to the ground and sat on a boulder before rummaging for his food. I watched him from a short distance, wondering what was on the Orsimer's mind that kept him so quiet and… well… tolerable. I'm not saying I liked him like this, but it was a pleasant break. I sifted through my pack and retrieved a water skin.

"How are you feeling now?" I called out, startling him. "Do you need another potion?" Mathas looked over at me, and for a moment I thought he was seeing me for the first time.

"No… I'm alright." His deep voice barely reached my ears, and I nodded; saying no more.

The rest of the day followed in the same matter. I was beginning to grow more worried as the sun started setting, but I didn't wish to push the Orc. As the sky was alight with the pretty colours of a sunset, I watched Mathas as he walked several paces ahead of me, his feet dragging considerably, and knew we needed to make camp soon. I opened my mouth to call out to him when I heard a low growl. Freezing, I quickly brought my hands up and prepared a strong firebolt in my hand, glancing around for the source of the growling. I looked over at where I thought Mathas would be, only to find him gone.

"Mathas?" I called out, my voice frantic.

There was a yelp, and then silence. I crested the hill and spotted Mathas standing over the corpse of a black furred wolf. A howl echoed around us.

"There's another one," Mathas growled, and I noticed the dark blood on his sword. He looked tense, his forehead scrunched, and his stance was that of an experienced fighter. I nodded, and we easily found the second beast, as it came charging towards us.

_Stupid animal_, I thought to myself, as Mathas stepped back and allowed me to use my magic. The wolf yelped and fell lifelessly to the ground.

"We should make camp."

I turned around, and watched Mathas sheath his ebony sword. I nodded once more, and we continued silently for a few feet until we reached a more sheltered area of rocks and dead trees. I lowered my pack to the ground and prepared to search for firewood when I heard his voice call out, and Mathas was yet again no where near me.

"I'm getting the wood," he explained, and I watched his dark form walk away from me.

I frowned, and resolved to find to out what was up with this different Mathas. I busied myself with preparing to cook dinner, and set up my bedroll. I glanced over at Mathas' pack and then quickly unrolled the Orc's sleeping mat as well, before sitting down on mine until he returned. Mathas came back a little while later, a small pile of large branches clutched to his chest, and he lowered them to the ground. I reached my hand out and allowed a small spark of flames to light the fire, noticing the Orsimer when he winced slightly, and then shook his head.

Once dinner was happily cooking away in the pot, I finally found the courage to talk to him.

"Hey Mathas?" I called quietly, watching as he turned his head my way. He had sat down on his bedroll immediately after I'd helped him take his armour off.

"Yeah?" He grunted.

"Is there something important about the First of Sun's Dawn?" I inquired softly, not wishing to push the subject too hard.

Mathas glanced over at the fire and was silent for a moment.

"It's my birth day." He replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing special."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Why wouldn't it be special?"

"It just isn't!" Mathas barked loudly, and I quickly shut my mouth.

I turned back to the food and did not say any more. Must be a touchy subject.

Mathas sighed, and whispered "It's not a time to be happy."

"…Oh?"

"I get… I get down."

He was opening up to me. I shuffled closer to him, listening.

"My parents… they were killed when I was young." His voice was harsh, like it was hard to even speak of the subject. "I can't enjoy my birth day anymore. They used to do something special for it, and then when they were gone… it just… muddled this time of the year."

Murdered?

"I understand, and I'm so sorry that happened to your parents Mathas…" I crawled closer onto his bedroll and took his hand. It was smooth, though rougher than my own skin, and callous free. "How did they… they…."

"It doesn't matter," Mathas replied harshly, scowling at the fire. He did not pull away from my touch, and I took that as a good sign. "I'd rather just… forget about this."

"Well, this year will be different." I smiled, letting go of his hand; and jumped to my feet.

"What do you mean?" Mathas asked, watching as I walked over to my satchel.

"Your birth day. It'll be different."

"How?"

"Because… I'm here." I retrieved the little brown package I had saved as a treat for the two of us one night. It seemed fitting, as inside lay two small sweetrolls. I came back over to the Orc and sat down, handing the package to him. "We can have dessert before dinner tonight!"

Mathas gave me a quizzical look, and hesitantly opened the package. He laughed.

"See? Happy Birthday Mathas." I took one of the sweetrolls he offered, and he took the second one.

"Thank you….. Lenia." His eyes glittered in the low light, and we ate our sweetrolls before dinner. The rest of the night the Orsimer was considerably in better spirits, and we sat by the fireside together, swapping a few stories from our childhoods. It was a great night.

_He deserves to be happy,_ I thought to myself, laughing at his horrible attempt to joke. _Some habits die hard, but that's what I'm here for._


End file.
